


Carry On

by xanavici



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, Canon Convergence, Character Deaths, Deadlock Jesse McCree, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Jesse McCree-centric, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 15:28:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18640891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xanavici/pseuds/xanavici
Summary: Isabelle McCree was twenty-two years old and running with the most dangerous gang in the southwest when she found out she was pregnant.Soon after, Jesse McCree was born and Isabelle decided she wouldn't let anything happen to him, not over her dead body.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [McTiddiezo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/McTiddiezo/gifts).



> Originally a birthday gift for the bae, McTidd, that was not at all late in any way, shape, or form.
> 
> A big thank you to Jordan/Kerfuffle/CommonNonsense for editing this for me!
> 
> And lastly, I started writing this over a year ago, aka well before the Reunion short and Ashe so while this started out as a highly unlikely possible backstory for Jesse, it's now fully in AU/canon convergence territory and it's also why there are a one or two references to that short but nothing more (bc I wasn't about to rewrite all of this to be canon compliant).
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!

_ Carry on my wayward son, there’ll be peace when you are done, lay your weary head to rest, don’t you cry no more. _

 

_ ~~~ _

 

Isabelle McCree clutches at the grimy sink as her stomach roils again.  She’s been feeling sick the past couple weeks, waking up feeling sore everywhere and stomach heaving, but this is different.  The two little lines on the pregnancy test mock her and throw the last couple days into focus. The dizzy spells, the sore hands and feet, the nausea, it’s all so obvious in hindsight.

Fuck, this cannot be happening.  Twenty two years old, member of one of the deadliest gangs in America, and now she has a little bun in the oven.  She doesn’t even know exactly who the father is. 

She can’t do this.  She can’t be a mom. 

A bang on the door.  “Yo Izzy! What’s taking so long in there?  We got places to be!”

Isabelle fumbles the pregnancy test into the trash and splashes some cold water on her face.  

“Be right there, D!”

She’s going to have to take care of this as soon as possible.  It’s hard enough keeping up with everyone and pulling her weight without having a little one waddle after her and scream at her for attention.  Keeping this kid is just out of the question.

Isabelle catches her own eye in the mirror.  She looks tired, and worried, and sick. Her gaze slides down to her still flat belly.  She places a slightly shaking hand on her stomach and stands there for a second, imagining.

Being a mom wouldn’t be such a terrible thing.  She remembers days with her own mom when she wasn’t much older than eight, running around and playing with the secondhand dolls they would save up for.  Of course that all ended when she got sick, but everything before that was nice. 

Another bang on the door startles her and she drops her hand like she was burned.

“I’m comin', I’m comin'.  Hold yer horses!”

She spares one last glance at the mirror before heading out.

 

###  Two Years Old

“If we go down through the canyon an’ come out up here we can easily get around the police blockade an’ we’d only lose ‘bout two hours,” Isabelle says as she points at the map spread out on the table.

“Yeah but they’re for sure gonna have another blockade set up farther down and there isn’t another way up past them.”

“A smaller blockade that’ll expect our numbers ta be weakened from the first blockade, we can easily take them out.” 

Sal runs his hand through his hair and thinks about what she says.  Isabelle knows she’s right, but sometimes Sal’s a little slow to accept that.  While he deliberates she takes a moment to check on Jesse.

Jesse sits in the corner a few feet away playing with a small stuffed horse and some bullet shells.  She’s still not happy about him having those, but he loves them and finding age-appropriate toys is harder than it looks.  Besides, it’s a little better than the actual bullets he originally was playing with.

Isabelle wishes she could say these past two years have been easy, but that would be a bold-faced lie.  Shortly after the news got out that she was pregnant, an older woman in the gang gave her an address of a clinic that would discreetly take care of it, no questions asked.  Isabelle made it all the way to the front door before she froze and realized she didn’t want to do that. The next seven months were filled with her pulling as many extra shifts as she could handle, amassing as many favors as she could, and calling on every friendship she formed over the last 4 years to prove that she was not deadweight.  

It got harder after Jesse was born.  There was a moment of peace right after, where she got to hold him for the first time, fall deeply in love with him, name him after her grandpa.  Then reality hit. Every favor she collected was used within two months. She then had to start working again and place Jesse in the hands of the only three people she actually trusted.  

She’ll admit, it almost got too hard a couple times.  The nights where nothing she did would stop Jesse from crying, the days where she would be too tired or anxious to focus on anything besides her boy.  She hates to think about those times where she almost wrapped him up in a blanket and left him on the front steps of a church.

Then, Jesse surprised her.  As he grew, so did his personality, and what a little charmer he turned out to be.  Rosy cheeks, a bright smile, a bubbly laugh, and curious hands drew everyone over to coo at him.  Even the most hardened gang members subtly vied for time to spend with the little boy and entertain him with the flashy studs on their jackets.  It also helped that he quickly developed some innate sense of when to be quiet and unobtrusive. Still doesn’t always happen when Isabelle needs it but it happens enough that the others don’t get too mad at the occasional outburst.

Jesse looks up from his toys and flashes one of those perfect smiles at Isabelle.  She smiles and waves back before turning back to Sal.

“This is the best option Sal an’ ya know it.”

Sal stares at Isabelle for a few seconds before sighing.  “Yea, you’re right.”

“I know I am,” she says with a smug smile.  “Now we’ll have ta shed a couple supplies ta make sure the trucks can get out of the canyon.  Should we leave behind the M-16’s or the frag grenades?”

Jesse turns his attention back to his horse and the plethora of shell casings he has lined up. He has them grouped up by size, but they quickly get mixed up again when his horse plows through them. 

“Well the frags don’t really need to be moved for another three weeks so I’m saying drop those.  Besides, if worse comes to worse we’ll want the M-16s to take out any- any...” Sal trails off.

“Any what?  Any what Sal?”

“Uhhh…”  Sal’s voice drops down to almost a whisper.  “Hey, should we be talking about this in front of your kid?”

Both of them glance over at Jesse who’s currently rearranging the shells into groups of four.

Isabelle looks back at Sal with a flat look.  “Ya kiddin’ me?”

“What?”

“He’s two years old, Sal.  Who’s he gonna tell?”

“I don’t know!  It’s just weird!”

“Well get over it, we got work to do.”

Sal hesitantly turns his attention back to the map and gets back to work.  They work well into the night hashing out all the finer details, not stopping until Isabelle feels a tug on her jeans.  She looks down and finds a sleepy Jesse rubbing at his eyes and yawning.

“Hey bambi.”  She reaches down to pick him up and settle him on her hip.  “Are ya gettin’ tired?”

Jesse nods and settles his head on her shoulder.

“We’re almost done here, go ahead an’ get some rest.”

Isabelle goes back to work.  Jesse settles in comfortably against her, but does not go to sleep.  With slowly blinking eyes he stares at the map and the plans written down around it.

 

###  Six Years Old

The low sunset paints everything in oranges and reds as Isabelle walks along the dusty, cracked road in the small abandoned town Deadlock has claimed for their own.  They had only found the town less than a month ago but in that time, the Rebels had made it look like they had owned the place for years. Graffiti on the walls, logos carved into tables, motorcycles on every block. 

One of the first things everyone did when they got here was claim a house or apartment for themselves, and Isabelle was no exception.  She found a small little house, barely bigger than a shack, right on the edge of town for her and Jesse. 

Deadlock has been her life since she was eighteen, and considers some of them family, but ever since she had Jesse, something tells her to keep some distance.  Maybe it’s that motherly instinct trying to protect her kid, maybe it’s something else. But no matter how many times that feeling's been proved wrong it’s refused to go away.

Until tonight.  

Tonight it is warranted and now she walks to her little house wish a quick pace and frequent glances over her shoulder.  The raid was by all means a success; in and out of the medical supplies warehouse before they even heard the first siren.  

They should be celebrating in the main square right now with cigarettes and cheap booze, but instead everyone had scattered as soon as they were done unloading the haul.  All because some newbie grabbed the wrong crate of drugs from the warehouse and that was apparently a big enough offense to earn a bullet in the chest.

Isabelle didn’t stick around long enough to find out if he would survive or not.  

She throws one more quick look over her shoulder, finds the coast clear, and turns down the road her house is on.  When it finally comes into view she finds her feet automatically speeding up until she’s practically running to the front door.  She shoulders it open then slams it shut behind her with a sharp exhale.

_ Safe.  She’s safe. _

Isabelle hears the pitter patter of little feet running towards her and a smile breaks out across her face.

“Mama!”

She crouches down just as Jesse rounds a corner and comes barrelling down the hall and into her chest.

“Hey there, big boy!”

“Mama,yer back!”

“I am!  Did ya stay out of trouble while I was gone?”

“Yea, Bullseye wanted to go outside but I told him you said no,” Jesse says while shaking his ratty stuffed horse.

“Good job, I’m proud of ya.”

“Did ya have fun, mama?”

Isabelle hesitates, voice stuck in her throat as she sees that newbie get shot again.  “Y-yeah I did.”

“Mama, I wannna go with ya next time!  I’m big enough! I can do it!”

Fear lances through Isabelle and her heart rate rockets back up.

“Oh?  You think yer big enough?” she says in a forcibly light tone.  “But yer hat doesn’t fit yet.”

“My hat?”

Isabelle stands up and takes Jesse’s hand in her’s.  They walk to the bedroom and from the top shelf in the closet she takes down a dark brown cowboy hat she picked up a couple weeks ago.  She plops it down on Jesse’s head and it immediately falls down over his eyes.

“How are ya supposed ta go out with me if yer hat’s in the way?”

Jesse giggles and pushes the hat up to hit Isabelle with a blinding grin.  That grin never fails to make her feels better, and sure enough she feels herself relaxing.  In one quick motion she picks Jesse up and starts spinning around. Jesse screams with delight and eventually they fall on the bed in a laughing mess.  

“I’ll tell you what, mister,” Isabelle starts.  She rights the stetson on Jesse’s head and thumbs the golden emblem on the front  “When that hat fits, then you can go out with me. Sound good?”

Jesse nods vigorously and throws his arms around her neck in a tight hug.  She breathes a shaky sigh of relief and holds him tight. That should give her a couple more years at least.  Hopefully by then she’ll have a better idea to keep her little cowboy out of harm’s way for just a little bit longer.

“Jesse?” She pulls him off of her and makes him look her right in the eye.  “I have somethin’ important I need ya ta understand.”

Jesse sobers up a little too quickly for a six year old.

“Jes I need ya to remember that ya can only really trust yer family.  You and me? We’re family, always and forever. The Deadlocks? They ain’t family, not like we are.  Ya can trust them, but not like ya trust me. Understand?”

“No, not really,” he says with a confused frown.

“It’s okay, you will.” She sighs and brushes some hair out of his face then traces the small scar he has over the corner of his lips.  She’s still not sure how he got ahold of that knife, but after the deep cut stopped bleeding she ripped into the guy who owned the knife until she put the fear of god into him.  “This life, it ain’t good for us, bambi, but it’s the only option we got. If ya ever find a better deal, I want ya ta take it. I want ya ta get as far away from here as possible, even if it means leaving me behind.”

“I ain’t ever gonna leave ya, mama!”

“And I never want to leave you.  Now don’t tell anyone that I told ya this, okay?  No one.”

Isabelle pulls him into another hug and holds him close until he starts to squirm.

“Are ya hungry?”

“Yea.”

“Alright, let’s get some grub.”

Jesse hops off her lap and races off to the kitchen.  Isabelle watches him a says a silent prayer to a god she hasn’t prayed to in a long time to keep him safe.

 

###  Eight Years Old

Jesse sits on his bed, nervously bouncing his leg.  He glances at the small clock on the nightstand and jumps up to start pacing.  His mom was supposed to be back an hour ago. The only reason she would be this late would be if there was some trouble, and trouble on a weapons transport is never good.  Last time there was trouble, three people ended up dead and five people ended up behind bars.

That can’t happen to his mom, he needs her.

The front door opens with a bang startling him enough to go for the knife hidden under the bed.  He grabs it and creeps towards the door with it held defensively in front of him. He finally rounds the corner and immediately drops the knife when he sees his mom propped up against the wall, clutching a bandage wrapped tightly around her leg that’s slowly turning more and more red.

“Mama?”

Isabelle’s head whips up, making her sway for a second.  “Hey, bambi,” she says with a weak smile.

“Mama are ya hurt?”

“Yea, but I’m gonna be okay.  I promise. I jus’ need some help.”

Jesse nods and rushes over to support his mom and help her over to a chair.  He stumbles under her weight and nearly falls over as he takes on more and more of it as they shuffle over.  

“Thanks Jes,” she says after she collapses in the chair.  “Now, go get the sewing kit and the whiskey.”

Jesse takes off to the bathroom, finds the kit, and runs back to the kitchen to grab the bottle his mom told him never to touch.  When he comes back he finds that his mom has unwound the bandage and shimmied out of her jeans. He can now see wound which bleeds sluggishly and looks worryingly like a gunshot.

“Mama, that looks real bad.”

“I know baby, but it’s gonna be okay.  Now, open the whiskey and take a swig of it.”

Jesse looks at her with a bewildered expression.  Last time he simply touched the bottle Isabelle grounded him for a month.

“I know what I said Jes.  Yer gonna need it ta steady yer hands.”

“Why do I need steady hands?”

“‘Cuz yer gonna sew me up.”

“Me?  Why can’t Sal do it, or DeeDee?” 

“No!” Isabelle snaps.  She takes a deep, shaky breath to calm herself.  “No, it has to be you.”

“But- but-”

“Jesse, here in Deadlock ya either keep up or ya get left behind.  Do ya understand me? If anyone finds out I can’t keep up, I get left behind.”  She reaches up and cups his cheek with a bloody hand. He tries not to squirm under the slick touch.  “I am  _ not _ gonna leave ya.”

Jesse nods and eventually Isabelle’s hand drops.  He takes a swig of the whiskey, coughing hard and almost spitting it out when it burns his throat.  

Isabelle tells Jesse how to disinfect the area and get the needle ready.  With an unsure hand he sews up the wound, front and back. It’s not pretty, and will leave an ugly scar, but it does it’s job.  They rewrap the stitches with another bandage and clean up the blood. Finally, Jesse helps his mom up again and they shuffle over to the bed for her to collapse onto.  

Right before she passes out from exhaustion she says, “Thanks baby. I’m real proud of ya.”

Jesse waits until her breath evens out, and he’s sure she’s asleep before going to the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.  He drags the step stool over to the sink and starts to wash his hands. The more blood that washes down the drain, the more his hands shake, until he’s clutching at the rim and throwing up.  All the composure he had been keeping falls away and violent trembles wrack his slight frame as he falls to the floor.

His mama said she was never going to leave him, and before tonight he would have believed that without a doubt.  But now he wonders when that promise is going to be broken.

 

###  Ten Years Old

Jesse barely breathes as he creeps around the corner of the large brick building.  He’s sure someone can hear his heartbeat with how hard its thumping in his chest, but he doesn’t stop moving to find out.

There isn’t supposed to be anyone from the Cyberjack gang around here, all pulled away by a very explosive distraction of the other side of the group of buildings, but he can’t be too sure.  Part of him wants to turn around and run back to the group of Rebels waiting for him but he can’t wimp out now, especially not on his first real mission for them. Instead, he swallows down his fear and picks up his pace a little.

His mama definitely wasn’t happy when the others decided he was perfect for sneaking in unseen.  No one else would have been able to squeeze through that hole in the fence or shimy on their stomach behind the low retaining walls that separated him from more than a few Cyberjacks with more than a few guns.  She fought and tried to offer other options but in the end she didn’t have enough power to sway enough people. 

Jesse just nodded when he was supposed to and tried to not look too happy that he was finally doing his part.

Based on the building plans he memorized from the pictures he was given, the window he’s supposed to find should be around here somewhere.  All he has to do is climb through it, sneak through the building, and unlock the back door from the inside to let everyone else in. Easy. Simple.  He’s got this.

He finds the window a couple seconds later; the iron bars in front of it makes it easy it identify.  With a small hop he grabs the bars and pulls himself up. Luckily the window is already cracked open, making his job a little easier, but it still takes a little bit angling and squeezing to get through.

With a quiet thump he lands on the floor and checks his watch.  Five minutes to find the back door. He waits a few seconds listening for any movement.  When there is none he makes his way around the edge of the room and into the hallway. It’s a guessing game of where to go now, so Jesse takes his best guess.  The hallways are thankfully very straightforward and lead him straight to the back door. He unlocks the door with a soft click then starts looking for a place to hide until the others get here which, looking at his watch again, should be in less than two minutes.

Jesse starts creeping back the way he came.  There was a room he found a couple turns ago that looked like the perfect place to hunker down out of sight.  Or at least it was a minute ago, because Jesse finds the door and opens it only to find some Cyberjack dude with a phone in his hand, staring straight at him.  

Neither one moves for a few seconds and for a moment Jesse thinks he can talk his way out of this, until the dude sees the winged skull on his denim vest and his eyes fill with rage.  Jesse wastes no time slamming the door shut and running down the hallway. He hears the door open again and a yell of rage bellows out. Jesse just skids around a corner and takes off sprinting looking for that back door.  The heavy footsteps behind him get louder and louder. Jesse risks a look over his shoulder to see that the man is quickly gaining on him and doesn’t look like he plans on giving up the chase.

Jesse finally spots the back door he unlocked earlier and rushes through it.  He doesn’t expect the few stairs outside and misses them, tumbling to the ground and rolling until he stops a few feet away.  He tries to get up but is too slow and a heavy boot kicks him in the ribs, sending him rolling a few more feet away. 

“Where do ya think you're going, you little punk?”

Jesse flips over and freezes when he sees a gun pointing straight at him.  He wishes he had his hat with him so this guy couldn’t see the terrified look on his face so easily, but it’s still a little too big for his head so it had to stay behind.

“Are the Deadlock bastards so desperate for fresh meat that they’re bringing in scrawny little kids like you now?”

Jesse doesn’t answer, too distracted by the fact that he’s gonna die.   _ Holy shit he’s gonna die. _

“Doesn’t matter.  You fuckers have caused us enough problems which means it’s time for you to get real familiar with my gun.”

The man aims with a sickening grin and a sinister laugh.  Jesse can’t do anything but feel his heart beat out of his chest.

_ BANG _

It takes more than a few seconds for Jesse to realise he’s not dead or in incredible pain.  He cracks an eye open than he must have closed when the gun went off and sees the Cyberjack thug standing there with a shocked expression, unmoving, and with a growing red stain on his chest. He completely opens his eyes just in time to see the guy tip backwards and collapse to the ground.

“Don’t touch my son.”

Jesse spins around to see Isabelle standing tall, fire in her eyes, and gun still smoking.  When she’s sure the other guy isn’t going to get up she rushes over to Jesse.

“Hey Jes, are you okay?  Did he hurt you?”

Jesse hisses when she touches his ribs and she curses under her breath.  Jesse looks at her and she seems furious.

“Let’s get you back to the truck bambi.  You did good today.”

Jesse nods and gets helped up.  

He doesn’t feel like he did well.

 

###  Thirteen Years Old

Isabelle wakes Jesse up in time with the sun, something he is very not happy about.  It takes some hissed threats, and a few cuss words, but eventually Jesse is dragged out of the barracks fully dressed and mostly awake.  He misses the house they had a couple years ago in that old town. How it was private, and how he had room to run around outside of it. Here, in this group of warehouses on the other side of New Mexico, it’s cramped and crowded, there’s nowhere for him to be alone and sometimes it's suffocating.  The only time to actually get some private time is the ass-crack of dawn, which is probably why his mama is dragging him out of bed so early but it still kinda sucks.

They walk for what feels like hours, but is probably only about 10 minutes, away from the sleeping Rebels and out into the desert.  Eventually Isabelle comes to a stop, looks around with a nod, and turns to Jesse.

“Time ta teach ya how ta shoot a gun.”

Jesse looks at her in surprise.  Of all the things he was guessing for the purpose of this little trip, this was not on the list.

“I shoulda taught ya this earlier,” she continues on, “but… I guess I didn’t want ya ta grow up this fast.  And with Burnham pulling ya onto more an’ more jobs ya need to learn how ta protect yerself.” None of the jobs he’s gone on have gone as bad as that first one, but there still have been some calls that have been too close for her.

“Sweet,” Jesse says.  He’d be lying if he said this wasn’t something he’s wanted to do for a while now, but he knows he needs to keep his cool if he doesn’t want his mom to change her mind.

“Now, listen closely, Jes.”

Isabelle takes her gun out of her holster.  It's an old revolver that Jesse always remembers her having, though he can only remember her using it a couple times.  She carefully show him how to handle it, and how to reload it. She shows him how to hold it and how to stand, and finally points him towards a cactus standing about fifteen feet away with a bullseye spray painted on it.  

Jesse narrows his eyes, sticks his tongue out, pulls it back in when his mama tells him not to bite it off, and pulls the trigger.

And promptly falls on his butt.

Isabelle busts out laughing and eventually helps him up out of the dirt.

“I told ya ta watch out fer that recoil.”

“Yea, I jus’ didn’t think it would be like that,” he grumbles.  That really hurt.

Isabelle rights him and helps him into his stance again.  “Remember, knees soft, arms steady. Widen your stance a little bit and try again.”

Jesse does what she says, lines up the shot, and fires.  He doesn’t fall this time, he even hits the cactus.

“Nice job!”  

He grins and lines up another shot, hitting the cactus again and getting closer to the target.  By the last bullet he hits the target and finally relaxes his stance.

“Well I’ll be.  Looks like ya got a real talent there, Jes.”

“I think I like this,” he says as he dumps the empty shells out and loads in six new bullets.

“Good.”  Isabelle’s voice turns serious.  “I won’t always be out there with ya, which means that the only way ta really protect yerself is ta be a damn good shot.”

“Just like you?”

“Just like me.  I know ya can do it.”

Jesse smiles and snaps the cylinder back in with a flick of the wrist.

_ I’m gonna be the best shot anyone’s ever seen. _

 

###  Fifteen Years Old

Jesse leans against the truck, looking the epitome of relaxed.  Feet crossed, arms crossed, eyes shaded with his stetson that now fits like a glove.  Though he looks calm, his heart is quickly beating in his chest. Last week he finally got his own winged tattoo and finally, officially, became a Deadlock Rebel.  Now today, he leads his first job, a simple transport mission to pick up a weapons shipment from a small border town. He’s not worried about that, he knows all the transport routes by heart and has multiple contingency plans if there’s any trouble.  Years of watching others do this have prepared him better than he could have ever hoped for. But he is worried about his crew: four new recruits, brought in last week and supposedly very promising. No telling if they’ll actually listen to orders, though, or keep their cool if things get dicey.

He hears them before he sees them.  Laughing and yelling and joking around without a care in the world.  When they get close enough, Jesse picks his head up just enough to peak a look from underneath the brim.  Two boys, two girls, three of them older than him with the second boy looking to be about his age. The oldest guy and girl start roughhousing and the girl gets shoved into the side of the truck, barely missing Jesse.  She mumbles out a sorry. Jesse just nods.

“What’s taking so long?”

“What’d ya say, Frank?”

“I said what’s taking so long,” the older guy, Frank, says.  “We were supposed to meet that Deadlock guy here but I don’t see him.”

“Maybe he’s late?” One of the girls says.  Jesse scoffs but keeps his head down, curious to see how this plays out.

“Late? Yeah right.”

“I don’t know.  Maybe ask that guy?” she says, pointing at Jesse.

“What? No, why would I ask him?  Where’d they even pick up a scrawny fucker like him?”

Jesse bristles but doesn’t react.  His mama taught him to keep him cool, to not act rashly.

“Doesn’t matter, I say we don’t need ‘em.  The fastest way to move up in Deadlock is to be a badass.  They don’t want wimps, they want people who don’t need to wait around and take orders!  They already told us what we’re doing to let’s go do it!”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Jesse finally says.

Frank stops and turns around slowly to face Jesse who still hasn’t moved.

“Excuse me?”

“Yea, Deadlock loves someone who’ll throw up a finger to the man, but they don’t much like someone who throws up a finger to ‘em.  Deadlock may be a bunch of lawless rebels but there’s still hierarchy.”

Frank stalks over to Jesse and stands right in front of him.

“Oh yea?” He flicks Jesse’s hat up.  “And how would you know that?”

Jesse looks up and fixes Frank with a flat look.  His mama also told him never to take any shit. “I know because I watch, I listen, I learn.  Something ya should learn.”

“Why you little shit.”

Frank winds up the punch which Jesse sees from a mile away.  He ducks under the punch and sends Frank to the ground with a trip and a shove.  Before Frank can even flip over or anyone else can move, Jesse has his gun pulled out and pointed straight at Frank’s head.  

Only the dry desert air moves around the five of them.

Frank’s wide eyes flick from the gun, to Jesse, to the tattoo on Jesse’s arm.  

“Remember,” Jesse says with a even tone that has a hint fire underneath.  “There’s always someone smarter than you. Always.”

Frank nods slowly.  Jesse holsters his gun with a flourish and smiles.

“Then let’s get to work.”

 

###  Seventeen Years Old

It started with static on the radio and an unsure voice.

_ “Hey, uhhh, boss?  Someone? We got a black SUV coming in hot from the west.  I don’t think it’s a friendly.” _

Isabelle, who was sorting ammo and reloading clips and speed-loaders, stops, along with everyone else in the room.  No one would dare attack the Deadlock Rebels like this, right? In the middle of the day, in plain sight?

_ “There’s more, at least two more trucks- no, three.” _

Looks like someone would dare.  

All at once, everyone’s in motion.  Isabelle grabs four extra speed-loaders, two for her, two for Jesse next time she sees him, then she’s running out with everyone else.

~~~

Jesse, who was sneaking a smoke by the edge of the gorge with a few others, nearly chokes on some smoke when he hears the message over the radio.  The rest of the cigarette gets stubbed out on the bottom of his boot and flicked into the canyon. 

Everything’s a step below utter chaos.  People running around, guns being shuffled, orders being shouted.  It’s in the chaos that Jesse slows down. Four cars? Only four cars coming straight up the roads in the middle of the day?  Something’s not right.

“It’s a distraction,” he says to no one in particular.  “It’s a distraction! Forget the trucks!” he yells but no one pays him any attention.  With almost perfect timing, Jesse hears a low pulsing noise that quickly gets louder and clearer and turns into the distinctive sound of helicopters.  Eight jet black helicopters, emblazoned with some red and white logo rise above the hills and grow in size as they rapidly approach.

It doesn’t take long for everything to turn into utter chaos.

Soldiers in black uniforms crawl out of seemingly everywhere with deadly precision, killing or incapacitating everyone they see with better guns and equipment than Deadlock could ever hope to have.  The gunshots, blasts, and shouts from both sides echo off the tall stone walls of the valley until it all blends into one cacophonous sound.

Isabelle holds her own and takes down more than a handful of the soldiers before she runs out of ammo, including the stuff she was saving for Jesse, who she still hasn’t found yet.  For all she knows he might be lying face down in the dirt which sends a spike of fear through her and makes her desperate to find her son.

Halfway across the compound Jesse runs and ducks behind crates to avoid an eagle-eyed sniper who’s already taken out three guys he was with.  He can’t get a lock on where the sniper is and it’s forcing him to keep moving and keep making increasingly riskier shots to take down any soldiers he sees.  He’s lost count of how many people he’s shot, but it seems like for everyone he takes down there’s two to replace them. Jesse’s exhausted, running low on ammo, and quickly accepting the reality of the situation which means there’s only one more thing for him to do.  Find his mom. 

He runs south.  She runs north. They shoot anyone that gets in their way and power through any of the injuries they recieve.  

Finally, after far too long, they meet on opposite sides of a battlefield.  Jesse sees a bullet graze on his mom’s side and a long slash across her forearm.  Isabelle sees a smeared spray of blood across her son’s face and a black eye. They share a brief look of understanding.  Get to each other, then get the hell out of dodge.

Jesse sees it all in slow motion.  

His mom standing up to run to him.   

His mom getting thrown sideways by the force of an unexpected spray of bullets ripping through her stomach.  

His mom skidding to a stop in the sand and not moving.

“No!  Mama!”

The world around Jesse fades away as his focus narrows in on the only person who matters.   _ She can’t be dead she can’t be dead she can’t be dead. _  He gets as far as two steps towards her before a bullet clips his shoulder and sends him spinning to the ground.  With a pained grunt he gets up to an elbow and comes face to face with a masked soldier who quickly introduces him to the butt of their gun and subsequently darkness.

~~~

Consciousness comes back to Jesse in a trickle.  First the pain in his shoulder, then the throbbing headache, then the cold surface under his cheek, then the memory of his mama getting gunned down.  He sits up with a gasp and almost recoils right back into the table when the cuffs around his wrist and attached to the table bite into his skin and pull on his shoulder.  He hisses in pain and curls in on himself.

“Oh good, you’re awake.”

Jesse freezes at the voice.  He’s not alone. Slowly he looks up (notices his hat is missing) and sees a man sitting across the table, the only other thing in this small grey room.  Dark skin, a couple scars across his face, beanie over his head, and eyes that give nothing away. He’s sitting back in his chair, tapping a pen against his knee while his other hand organizes a mess of papers on the table into a neater pile.  Jesse's stetson sits right next to the man at the corner of the table.

“Take your time, I’m in no rush.  To tell you the truth, this is the longest stretch of time I’ve had in months to just sit down and get caught up on paperwork.”

Jesse says nothing.  

“Not a talker I see.  I can respect that but I am going to need you to tell me a couple things, like your name.”

Jesse still says nothing, but his eyes dart around the room trying to figure a way out of here.

“Deadlock’s dead, kid,” the man says, his tone turning more serious.  “No one’s coming to get you and there’s no one to go back to. Everyone’s either been arrested or killed, so it’s in your best interest to cooperate with me.”

Jesse feels his heart stutter and once again remembers what happened to his mama.  

Dead.  Gone. No longer here with him.

It’s in that moment that Jesse realizes he’s alone now.  He really doesn’t have anyone to go back to. 

His lip trembles and his eyes get misty, but he tamps back the swelling emotions.  Now is not the time.

“Look kid,” the man says with a sigh.  “I know this is a lot, but I want to help you.  You got mixed up in some bad shit, but it’s not your fault.”

That draws a scoff from Jesse.  This guy thinks he’s just some dumb recruit that joined up for one reason or another.  

“You’ve got a lot of potential kid, I’ve read the reports.  You’re a damn good shot and talent like that shouldn’t be wasted.  I’m serious about wanting to help you so I got an offer for you.”

Jesse stares at him with wary eyes.  If Deadlock’s already gone why is this guy trying to trade for more information?  

“Option one: you go to jail, no two ways about it.  You’ll probably be tried as an adult and take the fall for a lot of the stuff Deadlock’s done.  Option two: you come work for me.”

Jesse sits up straight in surprise.  Who the hell is this guy and why does he think he can keep Jesse from going to jail with a job offer?

“It won’t be easy work, and if definitely won’t be clean, but you’ll be on the right side of the law and as long as you listen to me you won’t go to jail.  How does that sound?”

Jesse dips his head down low.  This is too much, too much.

Mama.

_ If ya ever find a better deal, I want ya ta take it.  I want ya ta get as far away from here as possible, even if it means leaving me behind. _

Jesse looks up again.  The man has a look on his face like he’s ready to do some more convincing to get Jesse to turn on his loyalties.  But that’s the thing isn’t it, Jesse was never loyal to Deadlock. He was only ever loyal to his mom and she’s gone now.

“What kinda work?” Jesse finally says.


	2. Part 2

###  Eighteen Years Old

_ “You… to do what!?” _

_ “Please, Ana… best shot I’ve seen since you… your help.” _

_ “He’s a criminal!” _

_ “He’s a kid!” _

God, Jesse really wishes he had a cigarette right now.  The mystery meeting on the other side of the door that Boss dragged him to is obviously about him and it obviously isn’t going well.  To be honest though, Jesse doesn’t expect anything different. Eight months ago he was still playing for the other side of the law, he knows it’s going to take a lot longer to convince everyone that he doesn’t want to go back to Deadlock.  But still, it’s been at least a month since he last heard this type of unconcealed disapproval of his past alliances.

The little girl sitting across the hall from him also hasn’t helped his mood or his cravings; ever since he sat down she’s been glaring at him.  Apparently no one taught her it’s rude to stare.

_ “... stop him from running back … ” _

_ “He won’t.  Just a feeling but…” _

“Are they talking about you in there?”

Jesse’s eyes open under his hat and his fingers stop tapping their improvised rhythm against his leg.  Staring’s over, on to interrogation now apparently.

“Probably,” he drawls, not looking up at the girl.

“Why?  Who are you?”

“Nobody special, so I don’t know.”

He hears her huff in annoyance.  “But–”

The door suddenly opens and Jesse quickly stands up to attention.  A woman walks out in front of Gabe and kneels in front of the girl.

“Habiti, I’m sorry but I have to do a favor for Uncle Gabe.  Why don’t you go find Rein and I’ll find you two when I’m done.”

_ Uncle Gabe? _

“Okay, Mom,” the little girl says, resigned but in a way like she expected it.”

_ Mom??  _ Jesse thought Gabe was meeting with some high-ranking Overwatch official.  Who is this kid?

The girl shoots one more glare at Jesse then runs off.  Jesse then finds himself under the scrutiny of two very powerful people.  The woman looks at him expectantly and a second too late he remembers to salute her.  Gabe’s shoulders bounce with a snort of laughter before he tells Jesse to relax.

“McCree, I would like you to meet Captain Ana Amari, second in command of Overwatch.”

“Ma’am,” Jesse says with a tip of his hat.  Captain Ana Amari raises one, unimpressed eyebrow.

“So you’re Gabriel’s newest recruit.  Did he tell you why he is interrupting my very busy day today?”

“No, ma’am.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Reyes says.  “McCree, Ana here is one of my oldest friends and also the best sniper I’ve ever seen.  She’s gonna teach you how to shoot.”

Jesse must wear a look of confusion on his face because Reyes continues on.  “You’re good kid, a better shot than most of the people here, but good isn’t good enough.  We need you to be the best.”

“Now if only Mister Spray-and-Pray would listen to his own words,” Ana says with a smug smile.

Reyes shoots her a glare that have sent lesser Blackwatch agents running for the hills, but the effect is undercut by the half-smile he wears and the fact that Captain Amari doesn’t so much as flinch.

“Anyways, you’re Ana’s for the next couple hours.  Come back when it’s time for mission tactics training.”

Reyes gives the captain a hug and leaves without another word.  Captain Amari turns back to Jesse and returns to giving him another hard expression.  With a slight nod of her head she starts walking towards the shooting ranges. Jesse scrambles to catch up with her.

“Today we’ll see if you really are as good as Gabe says you are.  If you show some promise then we’ll set up a consistent training time twice a week.  You will not miss those times unless I hear from Gabriel otherwise, understood?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Good, now let’s see what you got.” 

Captain Amari checks them in with the quartermaster and secures live ammo for Jesse.  They head down to one of the smaller ranges with just one lane and a large shooting area and she starts setting up targets while Jesse checks over his gun.  When he’s finally ready and the targets are in place, the captain takes a step back and motions for him to start.

For the first time in a long time, Jesse actually feels nervous handling his gun.  The way Boss talked to the captain, the way she carries herself, Jesse doesn’t have to see her shoot to know that she really is the best.  And even though he doesn’t know why, he really does not want to disappoint her.

Jesse closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and exhales to focus.  When he opens his eyes again he starts shooting.

_ Bang. _

_ Bang. _

_ Bang. _

_ Bang. _

It’s a rhythm as constant as his heart beat.

_ Point.  Aim. Pull.  Recoil. Next target. _

Ten shots later, his Glock is back in it’s holster before the last shell finishes bouncing on the ground.  When it finally does come to a stop Jesse turns around and sees Captain Amari looking down range with the closest thing to an impressed look he’s seen so far.

“Hmmm.”

She walks up and pushes a button on the control panel bringing the targets forward.  All nines and tens, a little worse than Jesse usually does. The targets self heal and then get sent to the back of the range again, but this time they don’t stop moving.  Captain Amari steps back again and Jesse takes that as his cue.

Ten more shots and the targets are coming back up front.  A couple eights this time, but still mostly nines and tens, still not his best.

“You don’t like that gun, do you?”

“No, ma’am.”

“What’s your usual choice?”

“Six-shot revolver, ma’am.”  

Captain Amari hums again, and walks out the range.  She comes back a few minutes later with a box of ammo, speed-loaders, and a beautiful revolver.  She hands him both in exchange for his Glock. Jesse puts the ammo and speed-loaders down on the bench, double-checks to see the revolver is unloaded, then spins it around on his finger a couple times to get a feel for the weight.

It feels amazing.

Blackwatch had confiscated everything that was on him after the raid, including his old revolver.  After he had signed the paperwork to join, the only thing he was able to get back was his hat, and he was told he would have to use a standard-issue Glock for his sidearm.  Eight months later it still doesn’t feel right.

“That looks much better,” Captain Amari says.  “Same thing again but this time, loosen up. You’re tight in your whole body, like you’re trying to force yourself to stand in the ‘proper stance’ that those so-called expert instructors taught you.”  She moves to stand face to face with him. “Forget everything they’ve taught you. Show me how you shoot.”

 

_ “Now listen carefully, Jess.  Stance wide, but not too wide, gotta have a solid base.  Shoulders down, both eyes open.” _

_ “Like this, ma?” _

_ “Just like that.  Now aim down the sights and watch out for that recoil.” _

 

_ Bang. _

_ Bang. _

_ Bang. _

_ Bang. _

All tens and a single nine.

_ Bang. _

_ Bang. _

_ Bang. _

_ Bang. _

Even split of nines and tens.

“So, Gabriel wasn’t joking with me.”

Captain Amari wears the first smile Jesse’s seen from her and a surge of pride rushes through him.

“You still have a lot to learn, but you have promise.  I’ll talk with Gabriel about working our shooting lessons into your schedule.  We’ll make a sharpshooter out of you yet, Agent McCree.”

 

_ “Great job, Jess.  We’ll make a gunslinger out of you yet.” _

 

 

###  Twenty-Two Years Old

It’s easy enough to slip away from the Blackwatch Halloween party unseen.  Everyone else is already too drunk to notice, enjoying one of their few guaranteed nights off, and Reyes has disappeared somewhere, probably to go find the Strike Commander and go over “mission briefs” (yea, Jesse learned that’s not what they really do after accidentally walking in on them in Reyes’ office one day).  He waits for an outburst of cheering from one of the various drinking games going on and slips out through the door.

The hallways of the watchpoint are much quieter, just soft conversations between those still on duty, the occasional chime of a communicator going off, and the ever present hum of machinery and electronics that make the whole base seem alive.  Jesse tips his hat to those he passes and heads to the kitchens. Yesterday he convinced one of the chefs to make him a couple special requests in exchange for a hundred bucks and an agreement to bring back a good bottle of tequila next time a mission took them to Mexico.  He finds the promised goods in a brown paper bag tucked into the back corner of the top shelf of the third fridge on the right. Goal in hand, he finally makes his way back to his quarters.

Behind the safety of the locked door, Jesse pulls out a stack of book and a plank of wood he smuggled out of Torbjorn’s workshop.  He makes a small table out of them and stacks a few more books on top. Next he pulls out a small, bright red sheet and drapes it over the whole thing.  Mismatched candles are placed around the base along with some beer bottles filled with slightly wilted marigolds he bought a couple days ago. He grabs the paper bag and pulls out a couple loaves of  _ pan de muerto  _ and arranges them on the short table with more marigolds and two shots of whiskey.  Finally, Jesse pulls his hat off and takes out an old battered picture in a protective plastic sheath that was tucked inside the inner band.  

He just barely remembers when this photo was taken, it was his tenth birthday.  His mama actually bought him a cake and some of her closest friends celebrated with them.  Someone gave him slightly oversized denim vest adorned with the Deadlock logo, someone else a small 3-inch switchblade.  At the end of the night his mama handed a camera to someone and pulled him close. It’s the only picture of her he still has.  

The picture goes at the very top of the altar and he finishes up by lighting all the candles.  Jesse snags the still open bottle of tequila, shuffles back a couple feet, and takes a seat on the hard floor.  The liquor burns on its way down his throat but it reinvigorates him and clears his head.

“Hey mama, still feel really bad ‘bout only havin’ vodka for ya last year so I hope the extra shot of Riazul makes up for that.”  His voice hitches on the last word so he stops and takes another drink before clearing his throat. “It’s been a long year. Picked up some new recruits. Lost Kotsiras and Parnian, though.  Saved Overwatch’s ass a couple times-- which, as you know, is always satisfyin’. 

“Oh, Reyes promoted me again, yer now lookin’ at Corporal McCree.  He looked so proud givin’ me my new rank, but to be honest… I don’t care.  Yea, I guess it’s nice to have more freedoms an’ a higher pay grade, but it also means I have more work an’ responsibilities an’ Reyes gave me the rank with the stipulation that I’d sign up for some of the online college courses that Overwatch offers.  Can ya believe it? Me, a college boy?” Jesse huffs out a laugh and takes another sip of tequila. “I dunno, at least the writin’ classes are interestin’.” Yet another swig of tequila gets knocked back and Jesse knows he should probably slow down but who cares.

“I just don’t get it.”  His voice rises and the tequila threatens to spill out of the bottle with the way he swings it around.  “Why does he keep promotin’ me? There’s a bunch of agents who’ve been here longer than me that he could promote.  Lot more experienced than me too! But no, instead he spouts off some shit about how much I’m improvin’ an’ becomin’ a better leader.  Did he forget who I am? Where I came from? I’m just a born and bred gangbanger who knows how to shoot fast and when to jump ship!” The silence rings loud after his outburst and as all the energy leaves him, his back hits the door to his dresser and he slides down to the floor.  “I ain’t some top-of-the-class soldier that knows what to do. I don’t know why he keeps treatin’ me like I am.”

Jesse’s voice trails off and he watches the bottle of tequila rotate back and forth between his hands.

“‘Reeha’s ‘bout to head off to college too, gonna major in mechanical engineerin’.  Gonna miss havin’ her ‘round.”

Another pause.  This one a little bit longer.

“Been almost five years now, mama.  I know I should be movin’ on an’ leavin’ ya in the past but- but I– _ fuck _ –” A tear splashes onto the label of the bottle, and with that comes the flood.  “I still miss ya, mama,” Jesse says with a broken voice in between hiccups and quiet sobs.

_ I still miss you. _

 

 

###  Twenty Eight Years Old

“ _ God… fucking… come on… fuck shit… fuck… _ ”

“McCree are you ready yet?”

“Almost, boss!   _ Come on, you stupid piece of cloth.  Just fucking _ – _ come on, come on… _ ”

“McCree hurry your ass up, we’re going to be late!”

“One more second!   _ Come on, you bastard, work with me! _ ”

“McCree!”  The door to his hotel room slams open as Gabe barges in.  Jesse flinches in surprise, accidentally pulling the half formed knot of the tie tight around the fingers holding it together and trapping them.  “What the hell are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Jesse says with a scowl.

“It looks like you’re losing a fight with your tie, which is impressive considering three weeks ago you helped stop anti-omnic terrorists in the States _ and  _ considering that Ana taught you how to tie your tie two years ago.  Come here.”

Gabe laughs and twists a pouting Jesse away from the mirror.  He unties the disastrous knot and starts retying it.

“What’s going on?” Gabe asks softly as he folds the end of fabric over each other.

“Hmm?”

“Something’s on your mind. What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’s wrong, boss.”

Gabe pulls the the tie through the last hole and tightens up the knot.  “Jesse, I’ve known you for ten years now. I know when something’s up with you.”

Jesse turns around a straightens up the tie.  He smooths down the lapels of the blue suit and makes sure all of the bars attached over his left breast are secure.  His cufflinks, a flattened pair of bullets Fareeha gave him for one of his birthdays, are twisted until they sit how he likes.

Gabe patiently waits for him to stop fidgeting.

“It’s just–” Jesse tries to start, but trips over the joking tone he tries to use.  “I’m–I don’t–”

“You don’t think you deserve this.”

Jesse stares at Gabe surprised, and uncomfortable with the fact that he was read so easily.

“McCree, without you we wouldn’t have made it into that compound until it was too late.  Jack’s strike team wouldn’t have been nearly as effective as it was, they would have been completely blind, and hundreds of people would be mourning the loss of their loved ones.   _ You _ made all of that possible.”

“Yeah… right.”

Jesse doesn’t bother correcting Gabe on why he really thinks he doesn’t deserve this.

“You’ve done some incredible work.”  Gabe places a hand on Jesse’s shoulder and squeezes gently. 

“Ya know, if you had told me ten, twenty years ago that one day one of the saviors of the Omnic Crisis was gonna compliment the work I’ve done an’ that I was gonna get a medal alongside him for savin’ a bunch of strangers just because it was the right thing to do, I would have laughed in yer face.”

Gabe grins and huffs out a laugh.  “What, you never once pretended to be a bigshot hero when you were a kid?”

“Nah, even back then I thought I was gonna be Deadlock ‘til I died.”

Gabe’s half-smile falls off his face as he does the math in his head.  “Back then? McCree, exactly how old were you when you joined Deadlock?”

Jesse collapses into a chair and runs a hand through his hair, grimacing when he remembers that it was actually nicely combed back for once.  “Never was a time when I wasn’t part of them. Honestly, I’m surprised this is just coming up now.”

“It never mattered before now.  Are you saying you were born into Deadlock?” Gabe asks, just a little incredulous.

“Yup,” he says, popping the ‘p’.  “Mama was one of them long before I came around.  I assume my dad was too but I don’t know. She never told me who he was.”

“I thought you said your mom died,” Gabe says carefully.

“She did.  The day you picked me up, I saw her get gunned down right in front of me by– actually I still don’t know by who.”

“Fucking hell,” Gabe mumbles as he slumps against the wall.  “I’m sorry McCree, no one deserves to see that.”

Jesse hums in agreement.  “She was the reason I joined you, ya know.  Once upon a time she told me that if I got a chance to get away from Deadlock that I was to take it, even if it meant leaving her behind.  I guess that’s one upside, I didn’t have to leave her behind.” 

Jesse picks up his hat from the table and rubs the brim between his fingers.  He can feel tears starting to form in his eyes and he rapidly blinks to get rid of them, but it doesn’t quite work.  He wasn’t expecting to talk about all of this today, or any day really. Honestly he never planned on talking about it.  But here he is, and the emotions are blindsiding him in a way he could have never prepared for.

“McCree.”

Jesse looks up through his bangs.  In the ten years he’s fought side by side with Gabe, he can count on one hand the number of times he’s seen him less than utterly confident in his actions.  Right now, Gabe look unguarded, and almost unsure.

“Your mother sounds like a hell of a woman.  And if there’s one thing I know, it’s that she would be proud of you.”

Jesse almost asks how Gabe would know that, but he sees the look in Gabe’s eye and reads between the lines.  Jesse’s heart clenches up and he ducks his head. Now ain’t that something. He quickly stands up and captures Gabe in a tight hug.  Words like that shouldn’t mean that much to him anymore, not to a black ops agent who’s nearly thirty years old, and yet…

Before Gabe can reciprocate or sass or reprimand him Jesse steps back and composes himself back into a calm, cocky cowboy.  “Careful boss, keep talkin’ like that an’ people will think you’ve gone soft.”

Quick as lighting Gabe has him trapped in a headlock and is ruining his hair even more.  “I’ll show you soft, you ingrate!”

By the time Gabe finally lets him escape, Jesse’s hair is hopelessly mussed.  He fixes what he can, then jams his hat on his head and gives Gabe a look that just dares him to disapprove of it.  Gabe just laughs and walks out of the room.

“Hurry up, cowboy, we’re late.”

Jesse rolls his eyes and runs out after him.  “Right behind ya, boss.”

 

###  Thirty One Years Old

Jesse politely knocks on the door of the officer’s quarters and smiles wide when Captain Amari opens it.

“Jesse!  You and your squad aren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow!”

“We finished up early an’ decided we had enough of the terrible water pressure an’ single shower at the safehouse.  ‘Sides, I wouldn’t want to miss out on gettin’ some of those delicious cookies of yours.”

“Oh, you know those are store-bought, you flatterer.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that they’re one of my favorites, ma’am.”

Ana lightly slaps his bicep and ushers him through the door.  Jesse takes his usual spot on the couch while Ana leaves to heat up a kettle of water.  

They’ve been doing these tea dates for almost eight years now.  Ana claims she initially offered because he desperately needed to be taught some manners and she knew that Gabe and Jack weren’t going to do that.  Jesse turned her down the first time and the second. He may have still been younger than most of the other soldiers and agents, but he already learned that people leave, they die, they never come back, and it was in his best interest to not get attached.  But then he realised that this was Ana Amari, world-famous and one of the most deadly snipers alive. The chances of her disappearing on him? Almost zero.

“So when exactly did you get back?” Ana asks as she walks back in.

“About two hours ago.  Went straight from debrief to Angie and when she gave me the all-clear, I came straight here.”

“I can see that.”  Ana hooks a finger under Jesse’s chin and takes on a critical eye.  “You didn’t even take the time to wash your face. Go to the bathroom and get cleaned up before I tell Gabriel to ground you.”

Jesse rolls his eyes and chuckles but gets up and does as he’s told.  When he gets back, there’s a plate of cookies waiting on the table and Ana is pouring the first cup of tea.

“This is a traditional koshary tea.  Fareeha sent me a box of it a couple weeks ago.”

“She did? Does that mean things are gettin’ better between you two?”  Jesse spoons some sugar into his cup and takes a tentative sip. It’s good, really good, one of the better ones Ana’s served him.  Though that might be him finally actually liking the flavor of tea and not just covering it up with an ungodly amount of sugar like he used to do years ago.

“I think so.  I don’t think I’ll ever be comfortable with her joining the army or her plans to join us one day, but I understand that it’s not my decision.  I can’t stop her from doing what she thinks is the right thing to do. It’s still going to take some time for the rift between us to heal, but I believe we are finally starting that path.”

“Good.  Good…”

An easy silence falls over them as they enjoy their drinks.  After everything that’s been going on the past couple years, more and more underfunded and underinformed missions, dirty ops that get dirtier by the day, and the whole Null Sector incident last year, Jesse appreciates these quiet moments.

“How is Gabriel doing?” Ana suddenly asks.  “I feel like I never see him anymore.”

“Well, he has been more busy lately,” Jesse admits.  “He’s also been more stressed. The UN still hasn’t gotten over the Venice Incident an’ it seems like they’re askin’ for more and more impossible things ‘cuz of that.  I try to help him as much as I can but you know him, how stubborn he is.”

“Yes, he’s been like that for as long as I can remember.  Even back during the first crisis he believed everything was his responsibility.”

“I still don’t understand why he made me his second-in-command, but I really don’t understand why he would do that, then turn ‘round an’ start pushin’ me away like this.”

Ana puts her cup down and wraps her hands around Jesse’s forearm.  “Jesse, he made you his second-in-command because he trusts you.”

“Yeah, but-”

Ana cuts him off.  “You’re also one of the most gifted soldiers I know and still a good man despite everything you’ve been through.”  

Jesse squirms under her words but doesn’t dare disagree with her.

“Gabriel is a complicated man, and I don’t know why he would push you away.  But what I do know is that he–”

The emergency alarm on Ana’s comm suddenly goes off and cuts off whatever she was going to say.  She frowns at the screen and answers it.

“What is it Jack?... Hostages?  Where?”

Jesse starts cleaning up their dishes and takes them to the kitchen.  Sounds like their time is being cut short. The leftover tea goes down the sink, the cookies back in the box with the others, and the dishes get a quick scrub before going on the drying rack.  By the time he’s done, Ana has changed into her tactical gear and is lacing up her boots.

“Add Mirembe to the team. She has hostage negotiation skills if it comes to that.  See you in five minutes.” She hangs up and readjusts her jacket before turning back to Jesse.

“I’m so sorry, Jesse.”

“Don’t apologize for nothin’.  Jus’ be safe an’ bring those people home safe.”  Ana wraps him up in a hug, then rushes them both out of her quarters.  

Jesse ignores the pit in his stomach that forms as she walks away.

Two days later he wishes he hadn’t.

Two days later, he watches Ana’s team walk off the jet with six rescued hostages, two field cremation canisters, and no Ana.

Two days later, he witnesses for the first time Gabe lose his cool, yell at Morrison, then cry.

Two days later, Jesse feels like he’s seventeen again, waking up in an unfamiliar place, realizing that she’s gone.

Gabe doesn’t even have to say please when he asks Jesse to go back to Kraków to look for her.  Jesse can see in both his and Jack’s eyes how much the not knowing is hurting them, so he doesn’t waste any time.  Gabe requisitions him a pilot and a plane and they fly him directly to the former rendezvous point. From there he makes his way through the bombed-out city district to Ana’s last known position, the roof of an old office building.

Jesse lost his queasy stomach decades ago, and god knows he’s seen worse than this, but the smudged blood trail and pieces of twisted metal that he recognizes as part of a scope make his stomach flip and head spin.

Proof that someone ripped Horus out of the sky and sent her crashing down to earth.

Jesse follows the blood trail as far as he can, but the dust and wind eventually cover it up before he even gets to the limits of the city district.  There’s too many tire tracks and possible directions to even take a guess of where the body was–no, where Ana was taken.

The disappointed faces of Gabe and Jack and Reinhardt and Fareeha flash through his mind, and it brings him to his knees.  Fuck, who’s going to tell Fareeha that her mom is gone? And is Gabe going to blame him for coming back empty-handed? And who is he going to sit with so he can just… breathe?

When he gets back to the plane, if the pilot notices his hat is pulled a little lower and his serape a little higher, they don’t say anything.  If once they’re in the air they notice some wet streaks down his cheeks, they don’t mention it. 

If Jesse’s shoulders curl in and hitch every couple of seconds, that’s no one’s business but his.

 

 

###  Thirty Four Years Old

Wind whips through Jesse’s hair as he cruises down the empty highway on the back of the hovercycle he liberated from his last bounty.  It’s a beast of a machine, painted a beautiful matte black, that purrs between his legs and reminds him of the better days of Deadlock, the days where he had the whole world at his fingertips and not one person to stop him.  His eyes briefly flick to the steel of his new left hand but he forces himself to look back at the road.

The sun beats down above him, baking the asphalt and dirt but the wind keeps Jesse cool until he finally gets to his destination, a small town north of Los Angeles. It was obviously bigger once upon a time, but fell victim to the Omnic Crisis and never quite recovered.  Jesse pulls the bike behind a small motel and winces as he turns it off. Without the constant vibrations, pain suddenly lances through what’s remaining of his left arm, the worst of it settling at the connection port. Damnit, he shouldn’t have ridden for that long, he should have known better.  Jesse grits his teeth, curls his arm a couple times, then grabs his duffle bag out of the saddlebag and heads to the front of the motel.

In the privacy of his newly rented room, Jesse takes a quick shower then sets about recalibrating the sensors in his arm.  The engineer who gave him it told him that it would take a while to get the sensitivity levels right and showed him how to change them.  Despite that, Jesse still shocks himself far too many times and by the end of it he’s sweating and cursing and reaching for his flask to pour out a drink. Only one, because he still has work to do.  The engineer also told him to take it easy for a couple weeks to let his arm heal, but Jesse never was good about listening to those sort of instructions. In retrospect, he admits that maybe he should have listened.

Eventually the sun goes down and the pain calms down to something Jesse can push to the side of his mind and worry about later.  He throws a plain-looking leather jacket on, tucks Peacekeeper into the back of his waistband, and heads to the dive bar he’s supposed to meet this mysterious contact.

Last week, he got a text from an unknown number with a vague suggestion of a partnership and the info for a hefty bounty, which he ultimately decided to take on.  As soon as he took the guy out and collected on the payout, he got another text asking for a meet-up. Jesse was wary, but also curious, and the last lead was good enough that McCree was willing to give it a chance.

Habit has him scoping the place out as soon as he gets there, checking cameras and exits, taking stock of the people already there and which ones might be dangerous.  When he’s satisfied, and the paranoid little voice in the back of his head that sounds suspiciously like Gabe finally calms down, he orders a whiskey and finds a seat in the very back of the bar.

He doesn’t have to wait long.  Less than five minutes later another drink slides across the table --tequila, by the smell of it-- then a woman with a serious undercut and matching purple jacket sits down across from him.

“ _ Hola _ ,” she says with a little wave and a devious smile.

“ _ Hola _ .”

“So, how did Utah treat you?”

“Just fine.  People could be nicer but maybe that’s just who I was hangin’ out with.”

“ _ Bueno.   _ So I guess this means you’re interested in what I have to offer.”

“Depends.  Ya haven’t exactly told me what yer offerin’ or a price.  Or a name.”

The woman smiles and sips on her drink.  “Smart man, someone taught you well.” There’s a stretch of silence where she doesn’t follow up, just looks at him with another smile that says ‘I know something you don’t know’.  Just when Jesse opens his mouth to prompt her, she sets her drink down and leans in. “You can call me Sombra. What I’m offering is simple: bounties and jobs that you wouldn’t hear about through your normal channels, or would hear about too late.  All I want in return is forty percent of the cut and some information.”

Jesse eyes her and nurses his own drink.  Something about her just screams ‘don’t trust me’ but he can’t put his finger on it.  But the bounty she gave him was good, really good. Fuck it. What more does he have left to lose?

“Ten percent.”

“Thirty.”

“Twenty, and what type of information?”

“Oh, just some names, dates, and details of your past affiliations,” she says like it’s nothing.

He doesn’t like her tone, and he’s not really interested in trips down memory lane.  Jesse throws back the rest of his whiskey and throws a couple of bills on the table as he stands up.  “It was nice meetin’ ya.”

“I promise I’ll make it worth it,” she says, just a bit too rushed.  “Guaranteed five figures, usually six, for every job.” She pauses and adopts another one of those smiles that Jesse is already starting to hate.  “Who knows, maybe you’ll finally be able to squirrel enough away to get rid of that tail of yours.”

That makes Jesse stop and his eyes dart around the room.  He doesn’t have a tail; no one could have followed him here and no one here has been paying enough attention to him to be suspicious.

“ _ Relajarse,  _ they’re not here.”

Jesse slowly sits back down with a scowl and waits for Sombra to continue.  There’s no way he can leave now without getting more information. “What tail?”

“The one that’s been asking about you, the Overwatch Cowboy.  They’re smart, and careful, fishing for details from very specific people instead of casting a wide net.  I don’t know much about them yet, only that they claim they’re old Deadlock.”

Shit.

Jesse’s breath hitches and his grip on the seat of his chair threatens to splinter it.

_ Shit. _

“I’ll throw that into the deal.  I may not know much right now but give me time and I’ll give you everything you need to always stay ten steps ahead of them, free of charge.”  Sombra sticks a hand across the table and raises one eyebrow.

Jesse looks at it and curses internally.  He still doesn’t like her tone or what she’s asking for and for all he knows this could be just one big lie to back him into a corner.  But then again, his gut is telling him she’s speaking truth, and last time he didn’t listen to his instincts, it cost him an arm. Before he can second-guess himself, he takes her hand and shakes it.

She smiles, this time a little less shrewd.  “I’ll keep in touch,  _ amigo.”   _ With a wave and a distortion of light, she disappears like she was never there.

Jesse slumps back into his seat and sighs.  Barely even two years now and it feels like everything’s going to shit.  He knows he should probably get out of here now, recharge for the night then head out again as soon as possible, but all he can find the energy to do is wave down a waitress and order another whiskey.  Of course his arm decides to flare up in pain again and it takes almost all of his self control not to curse out loud and break something.

It’s going to be a long night.

 

###  Thirty Seven Years Old

“Fucking find him!”

Jesse crouches lower behind the bar and grits his teeth.  Of course that knife had to catch right below his armour and of course it couldn’t be a clean cut.  He pulls away his serape and checks the wound. The rags he stuffed under his shirt are almost completely soaked and will probably start dripping soon.  The knife almost cut down to the ribs and he thinks it even slightly slipped between a couple at the end, given how much it stings when he twists too far.  

Three pairs of footsteps run past him and Jesse counts to ten before peeking over the bar.  The room’s empty so he hauls himself up with the help of the bar, gasps for breath and grips the knife cut, and starts lumbering towards the exit.  He knows he wasn’t in the bar for long, 45 minutes at the most, but the still bright afternoon sun takes him by surprise and nearly blinds him. He readjusts his hat and walks away as fast as possible.

The door to the bar slams open again and he hears more yells.  

“He couldn’t have gotten far!”

Jesse curses more than a couple times under his breath and walks faster without turning around.  Ever since he woke up Echo two months ago it’s been a steady cycle of his bounty rising, people looking to collect, him having to take out those people, and then his bounty rising again.  Right now Jesse thinks it’s just shy of sixty million. It doesn’t help that with every day that number rises, the hunters coming after him get more and more desperate, and Jesse fears a desperate man much more than a skilled man.  

Jesse darts down streets and back alleys, ignoring how his side cramps up and burns.  He checks reflections in parked cars and walks in and out of buildings. He doubles back, changes his walking pace, and walks in circles until he’s sure none of the bounty hunters are following him. Only then does he finally make his way to the empty office building he’s been squatting in since he got into town.  

None of Jesse’s security measures on the first floor look like they’ve been tripped, so he heads to the stairs and groans.  Why did he have to build his camp on the fourth floor. Oh right, because it has good sight lines, though right now those sight lines are just a real fucking big inconvenience. It takes him about three times longer than usual to get up the stairs and he’s pretty sure he re-opened any scabs that had started forming when the pain doubles.  

After finally reaching the fourth floor, and taking a long moment to get a breath or two or three, Jesse drags an office chair that’s missing a wheel over to where he already has a bedroll, bag, coffee table, and desk lamp set up.  It takes him two tries to fish his half-empty first aid kit out of his duffle bag thanks to the intense vertigo that hits him the first time, but he manages to keep it together long enough to drop it on the scuffed-up coffee table and collapse into the chair.  Everything hurts now, from the tips of his toes to the crown of his head, but he pushes through it to start shedding his layers until he’s left sitting in his boots and jeans that are about to be ruined by the trail of blood oozing down his side.

A voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Angela runs through the steps on how to clean and stitch the wound– though she probably wouldn’t say use a fifth of whiskey to disinfect the wound or take a swing of it to numb the pain.  He takes an extra drink just to be safe and dips the needle and thread into it to sterilize it before getting to work. His stitches aren’t even, but at least this will slow the bleeding and hopefully make the scar a little smaller once it heals up.  He finally covers it up with some bandages and tape and slumps back in relief. He’ll have to get up again soon to clean up the used gauze and wash off all the blood, but right now all he wants to do is close his eyes for just a second.

_ “She thinks my tractor’s sexy, it really turns her on, she’s always starin’ at me, when I’m chuggin’ along-” _

Jesse’s eyes snap open and he groans.  He never set the ringtone on his burner to that, which means there’s only one person who could be calling.  He starts digging through his discarded clothes, cursing when it pulls at the stitches, and finally finds his phone with the screen lit up saying “ _ Brat” _ .

“What,” he asks flatly when he answers it.  He can apologize for his lack of politeness later.

“ _ Geez, you sound terrible.” _

“Then I sound better than I feel.”

“ _ That better not mean you went and met up with those guys I told you not to meet up with until I had more info on them.” _

“I didn’t go and meet up with those guys you told me not to meet up with until you had more info on them,” Jesse says, not even attempting a poker face.

“... _ One moment please.” _  There’s some shuffling on the other end of the line and then a muffled string of Spanish curses so long it would have made Morrison blush.  “ _ Alright, I’m back.  Now do I need to tell you how stupid that was for you to do?” _

“No, ya don’t.  Why’d ya call, Som?”

“ _ Two things.  First: don’t go meet up with those guys, they want your bounty _ – _ ” _

“Yea, thanks for that–”

“ _ I’m not the idiot that ran in half-cocked, idiota!  Dios mio, what would your old CO have thought if you did that back in Blackwatch.” _

Jesse shuts his mouth shut and grits his teeth.  He knows exactly what Gabe would say, but he’s not here to say it so Jesse doesn’t want to hear it.  “What else did you want to tell me?” He says, voice low and tight.

“ _ That you need to skip town soon.  Your stalker friend just popped up again in Mesquite.” _

“Mesquite!  Sombra, that’s where I was last week!”

“ _ I know.” _

“God damn it!.” If Jesse has the energy he would jump up and start packing up all his shit immediately.  “You’re supposed to keep me ahead of this guy!”

_ “What the fuck do you think I’ve been doing, McCree!  Without me, they would have caught up to you months ago and besides, you try keeping tabs on them when they live so low tech they’re practically off the grid.  Hell, I still only have one picture of them, that grainy one of a cowboy hat and duster _ .”

Jesse pulls the phone away from his ear and takes a few deep breaths to calm down.  Mesquite is almost 8 hours away by car and who knows how they’re traveling. It’ll take a few days at least for them to figure out that he’s no longer there and to figure out where he’s gone next, but he has no idea how long they’ve already be asking around down there.  He should leave town ASAP, but he’s in no condition to travel right now.

“ _ McCree?  You still there?” _

_ “ _ Yea, I’m here.”

_ “Okay, look, head south and I’ll spoof a trail that shows you heading east.  That should give you plenty of space to lie low and rest up. Sound good?” _

“Yea.  Yea, that’s fine.”

“ _ Bueno.  Let me know when you head out so I can time this right.” _

The line goes dead, another heartfelt goodbye from her, and Jesse drops his phone back into the pile of clothes.  He goes to run a hand through his hair but stops just time time to remember that there’s still dry blood all over his skin

Fuck.  He’s so goddamn tired.

He wishes he had Angie here to patch him up.  He wishes he had Gabe here to keep his head level.  He wishes he had Genji to watch his back. He wishes…

Jesse stares at his duffel bag that has his old Overwatch comm somewhere in it.  Winston already asked once; he probably wouldn’t say no now. And he seemed to genuinely want to run the Watch differently this time.  And a whole ocean would definitely slow down anyone looking for him.

Maybe he will head east, just a little farther than planned.

 

###  Thirty Nine Years Old

_ Damn ghosts. _

Jesse takes a deep drag off his cigar, holds it in until his lungs start to burn, then lets out the smoke in a slow, steady stream.

_ Damn fucking ghosts. _

It started with Ana and Morrison last month, showing up in the middle of a mission guns blazing even though the team had everything under control.  When they walked off the Orca back onto base, they at least had the decency to look ashamed of the lie they pulled, but that didn’t mean he was going to stick around to hear their excuses.

And just when Jesse was considering forgiving them, or at the very least try to move past that whole thing, they had to reveal one more lie.  That there was one more literal ghost haunting them and they knew the whole time. They had a month to tell everyone –someone– but of course they don’t until it’s too little, too late.  Another shiver runs up Jesse’s back as he remembers the sound of Gabe’s distorted, hollow voice echoing out from behind the Reaper’s mask.

_ Really, vaquero?  I taught you better than this.   _

Jesse expects to feel more anger at the thought of what his old mentor has become, but that ran out about an hour before the tears did, and all that’s left is a gaping chasm and the burn of his cigar.  If any more ghosts come back, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to feel again.

Across the ocean, the sun touches the water and starts to set.  It throws an orange tint over everything and sets the water on fire.  Beautiful, but Jesse watches with a passive gaze. He remembers one of the first sunsets he watched at a watchpoint similar to this one.  Three months after Gabe recruited him and it finally hit him that this was it now. He wasn’t going to back to the desert of the southwest, he wasn’t going to get drunk around a makeshift campfire with people he had known since birth, he wasn’t going to see his mom’s face again. Wasn’t going to hear her voice, or feel the callouses on her hands or the warmth of her embrace.  

That realization sent him running from the mess hall and out to the most secluded part of the base he could find, tucked out of view from any cameras and far enough away that he couldn’t hear most of the usual noise of the watchpoint.  The emotions that had been simmering and waiting in the back of his mind for the last three months finally boiled over and tore him into pieces.

He doesn’t know how long he was sitting there by the time Gabe found him, slightly out of breath and looking very pissed.

“Turn off the alarm, I found him,” Gabe said into a comm before storming over to him.  “What the hell are you doing, McCree!?”

Jesse made sure to keep his hat tilted over his face.  Couldn’t show any weakness. “Nothing, sir. Sorry, sir.”  He scrambled to his feet and waited to be reprimanded, or for cuffs to be slapped onto his wrists, but Gabe didn’t move.  Jesse still thinks he kept his voice pretty even, but something must have tipped Gabe off, because he sat Jesse back down and they stayed there until the sky grew dark and it didn’t hurt quite so much anymore.

That was the first day Jesse really started to trust Gabe.  Only fitting that it ends the same way it started.

The sun’s only a sliver over the water when Jesse hears footsteps approaching and a deep voice say, “So this is where you disappeared to.”

Jesse takes one more drag off his cigar, then grinds it out on the wall he’s sitting against before looking over at his visitor.  Hanzo Shimada stands a few feet away with his arms crossed over his chest and an unreadable expression on his face. He’s dressed down for once in sweatpants and a t-shirt that anyone else would say is probably a little too small, but Jesse thinks it looks just right.  His hair is still pulled up, though, in his golden scarf that looks like liquid fire in the breeze and the last of the light.

“Was too crowded inside,” Jesse finally says.  Hanzo frowns and sits down next to him. A second of indecision later, he shifts a little closer until their shoulders are touching.  

Of all the surprises Jesse’s been hit with since he rejoined last year, this has to be one of the biggest.  Him and Hanzo Shimada. He remembers when he first met Genji back in Blackwatch, and when he first told Jesse who made him that way.  He remembers the fury that burned through him the first him he saw Hanzo sitting in the watchpoint and how he kept his emotions in check just long enough to find Genji and ask what the fuck he was thinking.  He remembers Genji explaining his choices, then threatening to cut his dick off if he even thought about hurting his brother. He remembers getting to actually know Hanzo and realizing everything he thought he knew about the man was wrong.  

Jesse sighs and leans into Hanzo a little more.  This thing between them is still very new, just a couple weeks old.  Neither of them expected it or even realised they wanted it until it happened, but somehow it came together.  They’re still figuring it out and haven’t told anyone else about it yet, but Jesse has a good feeling about this.  It’s the first good feeling he’s had in a while

“What is bothering you?” Hanzo asks in a low voice.

“Same thing that’s botherin’ everyone.”

Jesse was the only person Gabe taunted today, but he knew right away that everyone else needed to know.  Gabe was –is– the best of the best and everyone else deserved to know who they were going up against. While everyone else handled the revelation as well as could be expected, that is with yelling and disbelief, Jesse saw how there were two people in the room who didn’t react, just shared tired sighs and guilty looks.  Jesse left before they got the chance to try and defend themselves. He wasn’t interested in any excuses.

“He was your commanding officer, correct?”

“Yea, but, he was also more.  He was my mentor an’ my friend an’–”  Jesse voice chokes up and he’s left searching for words.  Hanzo shifts his arm and threads their fingers together. “I– I never knew my dad,” Jesse eventually says.  “My mom told me she wasn’t exactly sure who he could be but that it didn’t matter, I had her an’ she had me an’ that’s all that was important an’ she was right.  I never felt like somethin’ was missin’ but Reyes, he– he added somethin’ that just felt right an’– I dunno. He was just more than just my CO.”

“I am sorry, Jesse,” Hanzo says, stilted, like he isn’t used to offering comfort.  It still works and Jesse kisses him on the temple as a thanks. 

The sun finally dips below the water and the cool night breeze starts to creep in.  Hanzo stands up and offers his hand to Jesse so they can head inside. Jesse doesn’t see it, though; he continues to look out where the sun used to be and huffs out a deprecating laugh.

“It’s funny.  Learnin’ Gabe’s been reborn like this on today of all days.  Guess the universe really does like its jokes.”

“What is special about today?”

It takes Jesse a moment to respond, and he has to wipe at his eyes when his vision gets a little blurry.  “It’s my mom’s birthday.” Jesse finally looks up and while Hanzo’s doing a damn good job of concealing it, Jesse can tell he’s still surprised.

“You–You never talk about her,” Hanzo says as he sits back down.

Jesse shrugs.  “It happened so long ago, but…”

“What was she like?”  Hanzo asks. A question.  An invitation. An offer he is free to refuse.

Jesse unwraps his serape and rewraps it around both of them, pulling Hanzo under his arm.

“She was so kind.  Wasn’t cruel for the sake of bein’ cruel like some of the others in Deadlock were, but she also never took any shit.  Never let anyone walk over her, even once I came along…”

  
  


 

###  Forty Two Years Old

“Hey, honeybee, if I bought one of these piñatas would you help me eat all the candy in it?”

“ _ McCree, we are on a mission.” _

“Yeah, but we haven’t seen any action yet.”

_ “That does not mean it cannot come at any second _ .”

“Just give me a quick yes or no.”

“ _ If I say yes, are you planning on carrying one of those for the rest of the night until we get back to the drop ship?” _

“No, mister smarty pants, I’m gonna circle back and grab one once we’re done.”

“ _ You-“ _

_ “Shimada will you give him an answer already so you two can stop clogging up the comms!”  _ Jack swears under his breath and Hanzo doesn’t say another word.  Jesse’s about to push his luck and ask one more time, but then his comm vibrates with a text.

_ [Sweetpea], 1942 MST, 5-8-2081 _

_ Pick up two. _

Jesse huffs out a laugh and makes a mental note to ask to stuff the second one extra full.  If there’s one thing he’s learned in the last three years, it’s to never underestimate Hanzo’s sweet tooth.  Though, that’s not the only thing he’s learned.

He learned that Winston was right when he said that the world needed, even wanted, Overwatch back.  He learned, or relearned more like it, the security in having a team to back you up brings. He learned that he will never love anyone as much as he loves Hanzo Shimada.  It’s funny, he thought this thing with Hanzo was just going to be a fun fling, but both their hearts decided otherwise. Looking back now, he should have known it wouldn’t have turned out any other way.

Jesse tucks his comm away and continues his route through the back alleys of Dorado to meet up with the payload on the main road.  On par with the rest of the night, he finds a whole bunch of graffiti but no Los Muertos, or any hint of trouble for that matter. Maybe it’s Hanzo’s paranoia rubbing off on him, but maybe no trouble isn’t a good thing.  

He’s given a nod by Lucio and a salute by Zarya when he finally reaches the payload but other than that this area of town is mostly quiet.  A couple of civilians walk the street none the wiser; a dad and his young, hyper son, an older woman with long gray hair hiding under a large hat, and a young couple walking hand in hand in the direction of food stalls.  Nothing looks out of place yet Jesse can’t seem to shake the weird feeling that suddenly runs up his spine.

“Hey froggy, ‘bout how much farther we got?”

Lucio pulls up a map on his visor and scans the streets.  “Just under fifty meters it looks like, then we should be in the power plant.”

Jesse hums an affirmative but does another sweep of the street.  Father and son, old woman, young couple, no threat. Overhead balconies and walkways being monitored by Hanzo, 76 and Ana scouting ahead, alleyways just cleared by Jesse himself.  

Streets, alleyways, walkways.  

Streets, alleyways, walkways…

And the bank.

Jesse sees the movement behind the tinted windows a second too late.  All he can do is tackle Lucio to the ground and hope Zarya gets her shield up in time as a stream of bullets goes flying right over their heads and breaks the stillness of the night.  Ten or fifteen people and omnics with glowing skeleton tattoos stream out of the front behind riot shields with semi-automatics blasting away. 

“Payload under attack!  Payload under attack!” Jesse yells into his comm.

_ “Ambush at the plant entrance!” _ Ana yells back.   _ “They are coming out of the back of the bank.  We’re cut off!” _

Jesse curses and peaks out from behind the payload just in time to see two Los Muertos drop with arrows sticking out of their neck.  When two more turn to find out where Hanzo is shooting from Jesse takes them out with two quick shots, but in return he gets a bullet graze to his shoulder.

“Dammit, we ain’t gonna last long like this.  We need to group up.”

“Yeah, but Ana and 76 are still pinned down and we can’t leave the payload,” Lucio says as he boosts his amplifier to heal up their injuries.  “Unless you got another one of those crazy plans that might work?”

Jesse does in fact have an idea, but it’s risky.

“Zarya, how close are you to graviton surge?”

Zarya fires another particle grenade over the payload and grins when it hits a couple Los Muertos and knocks them off their feet.  “Almost ready!”

“Alright,” Jesse pulls up the street map on his comm.  “I’m gonna flank around through the courtyard here to other bank entrance.  Hanzo, watch my six. Zarya, as soon as the light show is ready let me know.  I’ll lay down some fire, giving you free reign to launch it, and hopefully catch as many of them as possible.  Lucio, when that happens, get a shield from Zarya then speed boost over to the parents and pick them up.”

_ “I’m not your father _ ,” Jack growls into the comm.

“Yeah, and what a relief that is,” Jesse sasses back.  “Everyone got it? Let’s go.”

Jesse breaks into a sprint and starts circling around.  Just as he gets into position, Zarya calls out that she’s charged up and he steps out to be the distraction.  Fan out six shots. Roll and reload. Fan out six more. His shots hit a couple people and pull the rest’s attention.  Jesse grins, but then a scrawny guy steps forward with a grenade in his hand and winds up to throw it right at Jesse.

_ “Fire at will!” _

The graviton surge pulls them all in with perfect timing and just as the scrawny guy throws the grenade, he gets pulled sideways and the throw goes wide.  Jesse watches it sail over his head and roll far away from him. He breathes a sigh of relief, until he sees it come to a stop right on the other side of a pillar where the old lady from earlier is talking cover.  Though, instead of cowering, she flicks her duster open and unholsters a gun. 

Jesse doesn’t hesitate.  He breaks out in a sprint directly for her and doesn’t even waste the time or breath to yell out a warning.  She sees him coming in at the last second but she barely gets her gun halfway raised before Jesse tackles her and angles his body so his body armor will take the brunt of the explosion.  The grenade goes off, peppering his back with chunks of mortar and making his ears ring. 

Fuck.  That’s gonna leave a mark, or five.  If he could just lay here until everything doesn’t hurt quite so much that would be nice, but the woman shifts so he rolls over with a groan.  When he opens his eyes, he finds everything covered in a fine layer of dust and his hat nowhere in sight, but the lady, luckily, looks unharmed.  She also looks more pissed than scared, like they ruined her nice vacation or something. 

“Ma’am, are ya alright?” He asks once the ringing starts to fade.

“I’m fine.” She coughs a couple times and brushes off her coat.  

Her voice sparks a moment of deja vu for Jesse, but he just got his brains scrambled so it’s probably nothing.

“McCree here.  Civilian and I got caught in a grenade blast but I think we’re both okay.  Could still use a look over from either Ana or Lucio.”

There’s no response from the rest of the team and Jesse suddenly realizes his earpiece is missing.  Shit. He starts digging through the rubble looking for it and misses the weird look the woman gives him.

“Jesse?  Jesse!”

Jesse quickly turns around and sees Hanzo running towards him, a frantic and terrified look on his face.

“Hanzo!”

Hanzo barrels into him and wraps him in a tight hug.  “Are you alright? Are you injured?”

“Nah, I think both of us are alright.”  Hanzo’s eyes flick to the woman and back.  “What about the rest of the team?”

“Your plan worked and they were able to break through the ambush, but we need to get to the power plant before more of them show up.”

“Yer right, let’s get goin’.” Jesse dusts off his serape and starts to get up.  “Have you seen my–”

An iron-tight grip over his glove stops him from standing all the way up.  The woman has her hand wrapped solidly around his wrist, and her eyes are wide and her mouth is slightly agape.

“Jesse?”

Her voice –still tickling something in the back of his brain– is laden with recognition and disbelief.  Jesse, frozen in place, doesn’t know how to respond. She shuffles forward and reaches for his face. He tries to lean back but she’s faster and she brushes aside his mustache to immediately find the thin scar hidden underneath.

“Bambi?”

Jesse chokes on his breath and falls back to his knees.  How did he not recognize her?

“Mama?”

A floodgate breaks and Isabelle McCree grabs hold of her son.  Jesse returns the embrace on instinct and forces his lungs to keep up with his rapidly beating heart.  Somewhere behind him, he hears Hanzo call his name in confusion but Jesse just can’t let go to answer him.

“Oh Jesse, my baby!  I can’t– I finally–”

“H-how-?”

Isabelle pulls back and brushes Jesse’s hair out of his face.  “I almost gave up lookin’ for you. I spend years always bein’ a couple steps behind you, and then you disappeared completely and the last lead I had was a sighting of you in this city, but that was from years ago and I didn’t–”  She pulls him back into another hug and the pieces fall in place for Jesse. His mystery Deadlock stalker that Sombra kept at bay for him. This whole time, it was his mom.

“Oh my god, your arm!” Isabelle takes his metal hand and a few of the tears that had been welling fall.  “What happened?”

“It’s a long story, but uhhh-”

“Jesse?”

Jesse finally turn around and finds Hanzo with the most confused look on his face, hand hovering over the knife attached to his belt like he’s not sure if this is a trick or trap or if this is for real.  

“Shit, right.  Mama, meet Hanzo.  Hanzo, meet my mom.”

Hanzo looks at her long and hard, assessing.  She does the same right back.

“I thought you said she was… passed,” Hanzo finally says.

“Yeah, how are you even here?”  Jesse asks. “I remember–”

_ Bang!  Bang! Bang! _

Gunfire cuts him off and all three of them suddenly remember the fight.

“Jesse, we have to go now.”

“Yer right.  Mama, I’m sorry but–”

“No!  I ain’t lettin’ you out of my sight.  Not after I just got you back.”

“But we can’t bring a civilian into a fight!”

“Civilian?  Did you forget who taught you how to use a gun in the first place?”

“No, I just– You– f _ uck.   _ Well, this is gonna be interesting.  Let’s go.”

Hanzo thankfully doesn’t argue.  They grab Jesse’s hat from where it landed at the entrance of the courtyard and run back to the battle.  At the entrance to the power plant, they find the rest of their team huddled behind the payload. It’s listing to the side where it’s hover-wheel has been damaged and more Los Muertos member circling around them.  Between flash bangs, a rapid volley of arrows, and a spray of bullets coming from two six-shooters, the three of them lay down enough damage and confusion for Lucio to activate his sound barrier and give the rest of them the advantage to take out the rest.

The post-battle quiet is a welcome relief, but of course Jack has to ruin it by storming over and opening his mouth.

“What the hell are you thinking, McCree!?  I knew you were reckless but I didn’t think stupid, bringing a civilian –an unknown civilian– into a fight!”

And here Jesse thought they had made progress over the last couple years, working past their differences.  His blood pressure spikes and he opens his mouth to defend himself but gets beaten to the punch.

“Who the fuck do you think you are, yellin’ at my son like that?  He just saved your sorry ass and the first thing you do is berate him?  Not even a thank you? I don’t know where you picked up that high horse yer ridin’ on, but ya might want to get off before someone knocks you off.”

Jack’s eyes go wide as he goes speechless.  Everyone else also is stunned by the former strike commander getting his ass handed to him.  Jesse, on the other hand, is absolutely delighted to see him get put in his place and has to bite his lip to keep from smiling.

“Son?”  Jack eventually asks in a strangled voice.

“ _ Habibi _ , care to introduce your friend?” Ana asks in a weird tone like she knows the answer but can’t believe it.  She’s heard the story of the Deadlock raid and the last time Jesse saw Isabelle. 

Jesse lays a hand on her shoulder and clears his throat.  “Everyone, meet my mom.”

There are questions that people obviously want to ask, especially those who know Jesse’s backstory, but Ana makes them finish the mission first and get back to the Orca.

Once the ship is safely in the air, there’s an awkward shuffle of people trying not to eavesdrop in a ship that’s far too small to have a private conversation, but who also desperately want to hear all the details.  Jesse and Isabelle sit down in the very back corner and Hanzo’s the only one to briefly come over to give them some water and a comforting squeeze on Jesse’s shoulder– something that doesn’t go missed by Isabelle.

“How?” Jesse eventually asks.  “I saw you get shot. Right in front of me.”

“It was a nasty gut shot, nasty enough to still give me flare ups when I eat too much dairy, but not nasty enough to kill me.  From what I learned from the others, the fight didn’t last long after that. As good as Deadlock was, we were never prepared to go toe to toe with an actual spec ops squad.  The survivors were arrested and rounded up– which is what I’m guessing happened to you?” Jesse nods. “And the injured were taken to a hospital and treated before joining everyone else.  I was in surgery for 6 hours that day and they pulled 3 slugs out of me. By the time I woke up, I had already been processed and charged.” 

Isabelle stops and takes a shaky breath.  “I tried to find you; asked everyone I could if they knew where you were, but information was hard to come by in super max and even once we got our hands on some cell phones, everyone was telling me the same thing: you just… disappeared.”

She stops again and wipes away some tears.  Jesse may or may not do the same.

“Mama, I’m so sorry.  I didn’t– I wanted to ask about you, try to find out what they did with your body, but at the time they thought I was just some unlucky kid that made a mistake and got mixed up with Deadlock.  I couldn’t.”

“Ya have nothin’ to be sorry for, Bambi.”  She takes his hands and squeezes them gently.  “Ya didn’t know an’ ya did what you had to. I’m the one that gave up after that.  I got sentenced to ten years an’ I didn’t once try anythin’ to get me out sooner so I could look a little better.”

“So how did ya find me?”

Isabelle huffs out a laugh.  “Coincidence, really. After I got out, I had thirty dollars left to my name, an’ I decided the best way to spend it was get shitfaced at the shittiest bar I could find.  When I was there, one of the tv’s had a fancy looking award ceremony for some hotshot Overwatch agents on, and imagine my surprise when I saw a young man getting his own metal, an’ holdin’ the hat I gave him.”

“You saw the IJF ceremony?”  Jesse groans. “That means you saw me in that damn monkey suit.”

“I thought you liked very handsome.”

“They didn’t do the fittin’ right.  The pants were too damn tight.”

“I bet the girls were all over that.”

Jesse hesitates and his eyes dart over to Hanzo quickly.  “Well, uh, not really.”

She looks over at Hanzo as well and nods.  “Ah, all the boys then?”

“Yea…” Jesse nervously runs a hand through his hair and tries not to fidget too much.  

“So when you were younger,  I should’ve said you were gonna be breakin’ all the boys’ hearts,” she teases.

They both start laughing, and damn does that feel good.

“So you saw me at the IJF ceremony, what about after that?” Jesse aks once he gets his laughing back under control.

“Well, luckily I was in Colorado at the time, so I went straight to the Overwatch base they had up there to try an’ get some answers.  I got right up to the gate but I couldn’t make myself go in. It looked like you made a good life for yourself an’ I didn’t want to mess that up by havin’ a newly-released convict start askin’ questions.  So I kept an eye on you from a distance, though news about you was far and few between. Did they not send you out often? I would have thought with that shootin’ I saw today they would’ve had you as part of their teams as often as possible.”

“No, I did go out a lot, but it was with Blackwatch, not Overwatch.”

“Blackwatch?  But weren’t they the ones that were in trouble for doin’ dirty work?”

“Yeah.  If somethin’ was too messy for Overwatch to handle then we were ordered to handle it.  Blew up in our faces more than a couple times.”

“Why’d you get assigned with them?”

“Well, Blackwatch was actual the ones who executed the Deadlock raid, and even though they thought I was in the wrong place and the wrong time, I was still a criminal.  They couldn’t have me on the same poster as their golden boy and poster children. Besides, it was a good thing in the end. I would have lost my mind if I had to answer to Morrison every day of my life.”  Jesse makes sure to say that last sentence loud enough so that Jack hears it. 

He hears some commotion from the cockpit, then Ana saying, “Do not make me use my sleep dart, John Francis Morrison!”

Isabelle chuckles and shakes her head, but then her expression turns serious.  “I was so terrified when I heard about the explosion in Switzerland. I was so sure I lost you again that I was actually relieved when I saw your wanted posters popping up.  I knew I couldn’t risk losing you again, so I started trackin’ you down.”

“And I ran because I thought it was someone with a grudge lookin’ to take my other arm.”

Isabelle suddenly reaches for his left hand like she had forgotten about it.  “Your arm, what happened to it?”

Jesse sighs and drags his other hand down his neck.  “It’s a long story, an’ not one I want to tell here.”

Isabelle nods her head in understanding, and for the first time there’s an awkward silence between them.  

“I didn’t realise Overwatch was a thing again.  Though this explains why you dropped off the grid again.”

“It’s not– well not officially.  But Winston –our commander of sorts– can be damn convincing when he wants to be.  Not that he needed to try that hard with most of us.”

“So everyone here was part of it before?”

“Nah, Zarya over there is a liason from the Russian Defense forces.  Lucio is  _ the _ Lucio, you know, international DJ and freedom fighter on the side.  Hanzo wasn’t either, but his brother was, which is why he’s here now.”

“So that’s his name.  I have to admit, he is quite a looker,” Isabelle says with a sly smile.

“Ma!” Jesse says, his face turning red.

She laughs and pats his arm.  “So, how long has that been goin’ on?”

“A couple years, three or so.”

“So does that mean it’s serious?”

Jesse looks over at Hanzo, who’s currently cleaning his bow.  “Yea,” he says with a dopey little smile. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

“Good.  Though, you’ll have to introduce us.  I need to see if he’s good enough for my son.”

“Ma!”

“I’m kiddin’... kinda.  I still do want to meet him.  You look very happy with him.”

“Yeah, I really am.”

“That other woman, the one with the rifle, she’s important to you too?”

“Ana? Yeah, she’s… She picked up where you left off and taught me to shoot even better.”

“But she’s more than just your teacher, right?”

“Umm, yea?  It’s– I don’t know.  She has a daughter who’s like a sister to me, so she kinda took me under her wing too and– I don’t know.  I’ve never put a name to it.”

“Jesse.”  

He looks up from where his gaze had dropped to his boots.

“It’s okay.  She was a mom to you too.  She was there when I couldn’t be and I’m glad.”

Jesse smiles and pulls Isabelle into a tight hug.  They have a lot more to talk about, but he’s feeling wrung out and right now he just wants to take in fact that she’s actually here.

“I’m glad I have you back, mama,” he says into her hair.

“I’m glad I have you back too, Jesse,” she whispers back.

  
  


 

###  Forty Five Years Old

The bright desert sun beats down on top of the lone truck driving south down the two-lane highway out of Fredonia.  In a couple weeks, the highway will be packed with tourists heading down to the North Rim, but until then it’s just Jesse driving along the empty stretch.  Ten minutes outside of the city he slows down and turns off on to a small road made out of cracked pavement, which turns into dirt about a quarter of a mile later.  The road winds around the mesas and dried-up riverbeds, dipping in and out of shadows, and switching back and forth until only people who know the land like the back of their hand still know where they are.  People like Jesse.

As he rounds the last mesa his destination finally comes into view: a small stucco house –a cabin almost– with a bright blue truck parked under a shelter and a tall telephone pole with a suspiciously high-tech satellite dish attached to the top.  Once upon a time this was a Blackwatch safe house, one that Jesse had set up himself under Gabe’s direction, but nowadays it’s a residence for someone else. If might be a little risky using it while Gabe is still playing cat and mouse with Talon, but as soon as Isabelle learned of it she insisted that this was the one she wanted.

Jesse parks his rental truck next to the shelter and gets out to stretch.  The drive from Vegas to here wasn’t too long, but it was boring and nothing beats finally breathing in the fresh air of the desert.  One more deep breath and then Jesse starts getting the bags of groceries out of the back seat. He hears the front door of the house open behind him and he turns around to find Isabelle standing on the porch, one hand on her hip and the other resting a rifle on her shoulder.

“Are ya gonna help me with these, or are ya gonna take your share of my bounty?”

Isabelle laughs and sets the rifle down next to the door before walking over.  “I’m an old lady with old habits. Don’t give me your sass.” She picks up the last couple bags and they take them inside.  After all the groceries are put away Isabelle pours two glasses of iced tea and they settle down in the chairs on the front porch.

“I was beginning to think you forgot about me all the way out here.”

“Sorry ‘bout that.  Winston had us on a roll the last couple months.  Got some new leads on Talon and we couldn’t wait and sit on them.”

“I’m just teasin’.  Was it worth it though?  Did you knock those bastards down another peg?”

“Yeah, was able to finally link Vishkar to them and get the rest of the world to see it too.  Now Vishkar is in a whole lot of hot water and Talon has lost one of their legal faces and another source of money.”

“Good.  Those bastards have what’s comin’ for them.”

They both sip on their iced tea and look out over the dried river basin as they enjoy the lull in conversation.  The view is one of the reasons Jesse decided to build the safehouse here. It’s one that he wouldn’t have minded looking at every day if he had to hole up here for a while.

“Oh, I almost forgot, I have somethin’ for you.”  Isabelle disappears in the house for a second and comes back with a deep blue piece of cloth.  Jesse unfolds it and his eyes go wide.

“This is beautiful!  Where did ya get it?”

“I made it, believe it or not.”

“You made me a new serape?”  Jesse says a little disbelieving.  It’s unlike any of his others back at the watchpoint.  The royal blue fabric is soft and the silver accents match perfectly.  The stylized skull in the corner pulls it all together and makes it look like it’s for a night on the town instead of a battlefield.

“Don’t be too surprised.  I have a lot of free time now an’ I needed somethin’ to keep me busy.  It was either learnin’ how to sew or go into town an’ try to stir up some trouble at the bars.”

Jesse laughs and refolds the serape.  “Well I think this is much more preferable.  Thanks, mama, I love it. I think Hanzo’s gonna love it too.  He’s always stealin’ them to use as blankets even though he complains that some of them are too scratchy.”

“How’s he doin’ by the way?  I’m disappointed he didn’t come with you.  You know we always have the best conversions.”

“Yeah, I don’t consider tales from when I was a baby my favorite conversations.  But he’s doin’ good. He had to train a new recruit, which is why he couldn’t make it this time.”

“That’s a shame.  You’ll have to make sure he comes out with you next time.”

“Yeah, for sure…”  Jesse trails off as he gets lost in thought for a moment.

“Jes?”

“Hmm?  Yeah?”

“You got a look on your face.  What’s on your mind?”

“Oh it’s just–” Jesse takes his hat off and runs a hand through his hair.  “I think I wanna ask Hanzo to marry me.”

Isabelle doesn’t say anything right away and when Jesse looks over, he finds her with the biggest smile on her face.

“My boy’s gettin’ married!”  Isabelle wraps Jesse and a tight hug and laughs with joy.  “Oh congratulations, baby!”

“Mama, I haven’t even asked yet!  I don’t even know if he’s gonna say yes.”

She pulls back and slaps him on the arm.  “Don’t be a fool, Jesse, I raised you better than that.  Of course he’s gonna say yes! Why wouldn’t he?”

“Well, for one, I don’t think we would ever make it legal with all the baggage attached to both our names.  And he hasn’t always liked the idea of bein’ married thanks to the shit his family put him through.”

“Oh, but you’re still gonna ask?”

“I don’t know.  I wanna. I already know I want to spend the rest of my life with him and I know he feels the same way.  And I’ve always fantasized about him wearin’ a ring I gave him an’ lettin’ the whole world know that we’re in it for the long run.  But yeah, I don’t know if he would like that.”

“That’s a tough one.”  Isabelle sits back down and takes a long sip as she thinks about it.

“Ya know, marriage is just a promise to stick together through thick an’ thin, an’ it sounds like you’ve already made that promise, though not in so many words.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“So fuck gettin’ married.”  Isabelle puts down her drink and faces Jesse.  “You already said that the legal stuff doesn’t matter, so just give him the ring, make the promise, and leave it at that.”

Jesse smiles.  “I knew you would have the answer.”

“Well that’s what mothers are for.  Though, if there is a party, I better be there or else I’ll hunt you down again.”

“I hear you loud and clear, ma’am.”

They laugh and Jesse holds up his glass for a toast.  “To not gettin’ married.”

“To family,” Isabelle says raising her glass as well.  

The glasses clink together in cheery agreement, and after finishing her glass, Isabelle starts telling stories about weddings she and her friends used to crash for the free booze.  Jesse half listens, too preoccupied with appreciating his ridiculous little family.

He can’t stop smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at: cryptidhanzoshimada  
> Find me on twitter @xanavici


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